


The grass is never greener

by Kaelynisfree



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Angst, Gen, Headcanon, Mages (Dragon Age), Tranquil Mage - Freeform, Tranquility (Dragon Age), maybe? - Freeform, well it's definitely not fluff I'll say that much
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-11
Updated: 2016-02-11
Packaged: 2018-05-19 17:18:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,157
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5975227
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kaelynisfree/pseuds/Kaelynisfree
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For years she wasn't a mage anymore. And one day the sky opens up, then she is and she wondered how she ever could have lived without.  </p>
<p>Living Tranquil is not the same as living in peace.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The grass is never greener

When she is a child she is someone. She has a name and a family.

She plays in the garden with her sister and pulls the weeds for her mother in springtime. Her mother smiles at her, proud. She knows she will create a beautiful garden one day. 

She is a little girl who cries when she accidentally picks a flower instead of a weed, but her mother holds her and rubs her back and gives assurance. The flowers will come back next year. They are not gone forever.

When she is older, the plants begin to grow at an alarming rate. Vines twist up from the ground and her mother cries. She watches her child twist her hand in the air and watch with amazement as the flowers grow. She prays that the world will keep her child safe.

But a mother knows. She tries not to cry in front of her little girl, knowing she will not come back and that forever is a long time.

When the templars take her, she sheds her life as child and becomes a weapon. She has a name, but no family anymore. Only sharp edges and cutting knowledge.

They do not let her in the garden.

She does, however, have a purpose.

She misses them, but dutifully keeps to her studies. Maybe one day when she’s good enough, a senior enchanter, she’ll be able to see her sister again. It is what fills her dreams. Drives them.

She is determined to become a weapon for them.

So determined that the demon offers and she cannot resist. She wants to see her family again one day.

The templar strikes her down and her dreams are severed.

After that, she does not want. She does as she is asked and eats when she is hungry. When she sleeps, she goes nowhere. It is best when she sleeps.

The circle sends her back to her family. They have no use for another tranquil mage.

Her mother sobs and her sister nearly punches the Templar that returns her, but she stands between them, her head cocked to the side.

“Don’t be angry. It is not his fault.”

No-one is at fault. Nothing is wrong. Her sister traces the star on her forehead and she winces at the pain. It is a fresh wound, but nothing is wrong. It only is and nothing is ever wrong.

Her sister ushers her inside and sits her down at the old wooden table they used to set flowers on before she went to the circle. When she was a child. When her name had meaning. She looks at the current bouquet and names the types of flowers in it without attachment.

Her mother and sister take care of her. They feed her when she’s hungry. Tell her to sleep when she is tired. These things she can feel, but everything else is gone.

When she tends her mother's garden it is because it is asked of her and nothing more.

“Is there anything you want to do, little sister?”

She thinks, carefully pulling a weed from the ground. “I want nothing,” she says simply.

Years go by and she is taken care of. Her mother passes. She isn’t sad. She does not mourn. She plants flowers in the garden because that is what her sister asks of her.

Her sister never marries. She never thinks to ask why.

Years and years later she is an old woman. She tends to the garden, eats when her sister brings her food.

Then the sky opens up a mile a way and suddenly she is curious.

That is all. Curious.

She wanders away from her little home, towards the hole in the sky. Each step she takes something else returns. Curiosity. Fear. Relief. Frustration. Her legs are so old and withered, she struggles that mile but she is determined.

Determination. She uses it to make her way to the hole in the sky.

When she makes it, she fights for her life and defeats the demons and abominations. 

Her magic returns. She waves her hand and flowers grow. She fights for her life, but she is not a weapon.

Her sister finds her later, sitting on a hill, staring up at the sky and weeping. She holds her and weeps right along side her. It's been a long time since they've talked. Since they've smile at one another.

They talk for hours and for days, her sister leaving the spot to find food and bring blankets, leaving when demons come out. It is a warm summer, but for two old woman, it’s always a little chilly. But old bones know how to fight.

She knows what she wants. To love her sister. To never stop feeling the love for her sister.

When her sister dies, she mourns, nothing has ever hurt so much. The pain is nearly unbearable but she treasures it. 

She buries her beneath vines and flowers and never leaves the spot beneath the hole in the sky.

A group comes, lead by an elf with tattoos adorning her face. She does not like this elf.

“Come on, we have to close the rift!” 

They defeat another wave of demons and abominations and then notice up on a hill, a frail old women, standing watch, a star branded on her forehead.

“You can’t,” she says quietly. She is angry. She’s never felt this fire before.

“Not another one,” one of the others says. They all look upon her with pity. The expression they would give her when the world was shut away. She does not want their pity. She knows what she wants now. 

She weaves a vine around the elf’s neck before they can strike. “I will let you live if you leave with the rift open.”

“That isn’t going to happen.” 

The elf struggles for breath as the vine tightens.

“I will not forget!” she screams, all the rage of 60 years pouring from her mouth in a single sentence.

Her companions hesitate and she wonders if this time she will finally win.

“Cole!” The elf screams. “Do it now!”

A knife slides between her shoulder blades and she hears a small voice from behind. “I’m sorry… it’s better this way.”

She falls to the ground and watches as the elf raises her hand towards sky. It is the most beautiful storm of green, and for a moment she remembers how it is to be in awe.

She closes her eyes and fills a garden with the green light. She imagines sitting in it with her sister and mother, watching the flowers blow in the wind, the green lightening in the sky. She is in awe.

She hears a spark as the rift closes and the world shuts itself away again. There is nothing, not even physical pain. The boy continues to stand above her.

Perhaps he is right. Perhaps it is better this way.

**Author's Note:**

> It's always bothered me that they never talk about how the rifts affect Tranquil Mages. I mean, if Anders being Justice brings Karl back for just a moment, imagine how a rift might affect a tranquil mage. I just. I have this idea that those lucky enough to be near a rift when it opens flock to it. Just imagine tranquil mages working together to defeat demons and abominations and keeping the rift safe and begging the inquisitor to keep it open. 
> 
> It's terrible and it's sad, but honestly I feel as though Tranquility is one of the reasons the war started. Why do we not get to see them more?


End file.
